


and in your dreams (you'll see us falling)

by ForASecondThereWedWon



Series: Spidey-shots, Spidey-shots, now they're done, thanks a lot <3 [43]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Cemetery, Character Death, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Insomnia, Loss of Parent(s), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Prompt Fic, Regret, Tumblr Prompt, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForASecondThereWedWon/pseuds/ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary: Michelle Jones, survivor, six months post-Snap.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Spidey-shots, Spidey-shots, now they're done, thanks a lot <3 [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1368034
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34
Collections: The Spideychelle Shuffle





	and in your dreams (you'll see us falling)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klassmartin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klassmartin/gifts).



> Based on the following lyrics from "Oblivion" by M83:
> 
> _And when the nights are long/All those stars recall your goodbye, your goodbye/And in the night, you’ll hear me calling/You’ll hear me calling_

MJ can’t sleep, still and again. So she goes to the place she’d never gone before this, though, based on the movies she loves best―with independent and weird and gifted girls who wield magic and fear no man―that’s a surprise.

With her parents gone and only her elderly grandfather at home to watch her, it’s easy to sneak out at night. Six months after the Snap, the landscape’s almost as much of a grey disaster zone as it was the day it happened, but the people alternately crapping and creaming their pants over doomsday have mostly gone to ground and MJ can make the short trip by bike without feeling too afraid. She has a chunky flashlight tucked into the waistband of her sweatpants. That’s a light and a weapon.

She’s made this ride before and, though she once again tries to imagine herself as one of the characters in _The Craft_ , her skin still crawls when she wheels through the wrought iron gates. Cemeteries aren’t cool playgrounds for bogus rituals. They’re sad. Bodies below ground and nothing to see but the scale-like tombstones in a field of emptiness. That’s how it feels. Everyone here must have left someone behind who felt empty without them. It’s the only comfort MJ finds in this place, that her suffering is not an anomaly.

Her parents aren’t buried here, but Peter Parker is. Or he would be if he weren’t a scattering of dust in space somewhere. He has a marker, regardless. Everybody counts. Everybody comes home one way or another. MJ climbs off her bike and steers it down the path, popping the kickstand when she reaches his row.

There are dreams that don’t stop. They’re back on the bus to MoMA and Peter hops out the window. She gets up from her seat and trips walking down the central aisle, or it’s blocked by backpacks or her classmates. Although the middle part changes, the ending doesn’t deviate. She gets to a window, looks out, and Peter is gone. In other dreams, she’s at Midtown and Peter’s ahead of her in the hallway, about to turn the corner. She gets a bad feeling and starts to run. She can never catch him in time; when she rounds the corner, he’s nowhere to be found.

It’s dumb to be so hung up on losing him, she thinks as she kicks at something in the grass, then feels bad because it might be a dislodged piece of a floral arrangement left on a grave. They were barely friends. She doesn’t visit her parents this much (she doesn’t visit them at all―their headstones seem to belong to other people). Then again, she also doesn’t have persistent dreams about her parents. She doesn’t wake up in a sweat, starting to sob, with her arms reaching for them, like her unconscious body reaches for Peter. When she manages to sleep. Her parents were Snapped at work. Is that the difference? Even if MJ wasn’t with them, the last place they were is nearby. Peter went somewhere she’ll never go.

She stands in front of his marker, almost close enough to touch the toes of her sneakers to the stone, but she doesn’t look at it. Instead, MJ tilts her head up and opens her eyes wide to the sky. The apocalypse has really cut down on light pollution.

“Maybe it was more than just me being very observant,” she mumbles. Stars she can’t name twinkle back at her. “Fine,” MJ admits, “I loved him.”

Maybe that’s a lot, for communicating with Peter by middle finger more often than words, for looking quickly away whenever he met her eye. And maybe she felt it too soon.

But she said it too late.


End file.
